Saints be praised, Spinderella has shoved off, moved on, and moved out! And I can't even begin to say how overcome with joy I am to know that somewhere very far away from here, she's returned to the one place that has no choice but to take her back.
And because I am a kind and thoughtful person, a word of advice to Spin...
Develop a taste in music that doesn't deafen you. Remember that good manners will open more doors than they will close. And for the love of God, live at home with your parents for as long as they will have you! And if all else fails, consider traveling abroad...
Ticks That Tock
I'm stubborn. A flaw I come by quite naturally. And I've never given much thought to changing, either from want or need or because of someone else's I wish you would. And wishing I would is more in the vernacular of thinking I could, when the truth is I can't, and to be quite honest won't.
Stubbornness is a flaw however. And I'd be the last person to try to deny that fact. I know all too well how stubbornness and pride can band together to form a most disagreeable union, like that of an aberration in the design of an atom.
Two strengths cannot coexist in the same place and time without giving tell to a critical weakness. One doesn't have to be well versed in mathematical equations or pontificating theories that explain the theory of everything in ridiculously exquisite and most often overly articulate detail. One must simply understand the simple design and dynamics of oneself as an individual, which is to say that it’s the tock that makes us all tick.
As for me, I happen to do well with self-imploding. Mini eruptions that pop up like wildfires scorching their way along my well used garden path. And I have been burning for years, sometimes in the quiet of myself and sometimes loud enough for anyone to hear. Though after a while even the most persistent flames burn to ember. And the ember waits, smoldering to itself, waiting for what can make it glow.
But there are those among us who throw the towel in too quickly. And more among us who fail to throw the towel in at all. I, I can master neither, getting caught up more so in the in-between of two rights, two wrongs, and too much time wasted trying to figure it all out.
I am one of the dreaded people who demands answers to everything. There is nothing that I can think of that I wouldn't want to know. And when I want to know, I make it a point to be still. To watch. To listen. To hear the things not necessarily said as much as they are often implied in simple gestures, unguarded glances and moments that define the directions of our individual realities.
Decisions. To fade. To follow. To carry on. And carry through. To live. To breathe. To be on fire with joy as well as with sorrow. To feel the salty wetness of a tear that tried. To know the flame of love as long as it will burn. To be willing to risk that first hello. To be willing to have to say goodbye.
Stubbornness is a flaw however. And I'd be the last person to try to deny that fact. I know all too well how stubbornness and pride can band together to form a most disagreeable union, like that of an aberration in the design of an atom.
Two strengths cannot coexist in the same place and time without giving tell to a critical weakness. One doesn't have to be well versed in mathematical equations or pontificating theories that explain the theory of everything in ridiculously exquisite and most often overly articulate detail. One must simply understand the simple design and dynamics of oneself as an individual, which is to say that it’s the tock that makes us all tick.
As for me, I happen to do well with self-imploding. Mini eruptions that pop up like wildfires scorching their way along my well used garden path. And I have been burning for years, sometimes in the quiet of myself and sometimes loud enough for anyone to hear. Though after a while even the most persistent flames burn to ember. And the ember waits, smoldering to itself, waiting for what can make it glow.
But there are those among us who throw the towel in too quickly. And more among us who fail to throw the towel in at all. I, I can master neither, getting caught up more so in the in-between of two rights, two wrongs, and too much time wasted trying to figure it all out.
I am one of the dreaded people who demands answers to everything. There is nothing that I can think of that I wouldn't want to know. And when I want to know, I make it a point to be still. To watch. To listen. To hear the things not necessarily said as much as they are often implied in simple gestures, unguarded glances and moments that define the directions of our individual realities.
Decisions. To fade. To follow. To carry on. And carry through. To live. To breathe. To be on fire with joy as well as with sorrow. To feel the salty wetness of a tear that tried. To know the flame of love as long as it will burn. To be willing to risk that first hello. To be willing to have to say goodbye.
Amazing Grace
I went to church this morning, a little hesitant to be back after more than two weeks away, worried that I wasn't quite ready to handle the whole stand in the pew and not cry thing. And as it turned out, I wasn't able to do anything without crying...
Straight into the first song, I was a mess with the waterworks, feeling like a fool and about to make a quick exit when Marguerite sat down beside me, gave me a hug and whispered, "I'll be right back with some Kleenex."
And it's people like Marguerite, Marcia, Sandy, Susan, Donna, Marilyn and Marlene - which honestly is just to name a few of the people that I attend church with, who contribute regularly to the generosity of spirit and kindness that is the hand of God in human form. To them, and to all the other wonderful people who have reached out these past few weeks to my father, my sisters, and myself, I offer my most sincere thanks. Words can not express the gratitude we feel...
A Movie Worth Watching... Who Knew?
Okay... So Sue called me the other night, wondering what I had planned other than my usual absolutely nothing on a Friday night, even though my daughter is at her father's for the weekend, and I really do need to get a life occasionally bit of nothing much at all, and suggested a trip to the movies.
And since a trip to the movies seemed like just the perfect idea to help shake the blues, I didn't hesitate in saying "Yes!" and "What time?"
So she and her son Josh, who was kind enough to mention that I remind him of his fifty year old, ugly teacher from school who just happens to be almost as funny as me but not quite, picked me up from home to take me away from it all...Honestly, I don't think Calgon could have done it much better, despite the fact that I was being compared to a woman one step away from using a walker, and a face reminiscent of a plastic treasure troll.
I called Josh on this in the parking lot, craning my neck towards the sky to give him the I may be short, and I may be funny, but I can still kick your ass in Guitar Hero any day glare of an adopted by proximity and friendship mock Aunt. A look I can say I've perfected after seventeen years of gifting my own nephew Jamie with every known stare in the universe.
He, of course, started apologizing profusely, tripping over his own tongue to say that he wasn't really saying he thought I looked like his troglodyte teacher, that what he was really saying was that I was as funny, if not funnier than she... Which after I picked on him just a tad bit longer before letting him off the hook, turned out to be quite alright.
The movie however turned out to be quite excellent and a pleasant surprise to find that every once in a while, someone out there in movie land can actually find a writer who knows how to write and a director who can film a movie that has personality, depth, compassion and humor all rolled up into one delicious two hour stretch of time.
Juno is a must see. A must see for anyone who values stimulating dialogue, and the kind of special effects that only their own heart can produce...
And since a trip to the movies seemed like just the perfect idea to help shake the blues, I didn't hesitate in saying "Yes!" and "What time?"
So she and her son Josh, who was kind enough to mention that I remind him of his fifty year old, ugly teacher from school who just happens to be almost as funny as me but not quite, picked me up from home to take me away from it all...Honestly, I don't think Calgon could have done it much better, despite the fact that I was being compared to a woman one step away from using a walker, and a face reminiscent of a plastic treasure troll.
I called Josh on this in the parking lot, craning my neck towards the sky to give him the I may be short, and I may be funny, but I can still kick your ass in Guitar Hero any day glare of an adopted by proximity and friendship mock Aunt. A look I can say I've perfected after seventeen years of gifting my own nephew Jamie with every known stare in the universe.
He, of course, started apologizing profusely, tripping over his own tongue to say that he wasn't really saying he thought I looked like his troglodyte teacher, that what he was really saying was that I was as funny, if not funnier than she... Which after I picked on him just a tad bit longer before letting him off the hook, turned out to be quite alright.
The movie however turned out to be quite excellent and a pleasant surprise to find that every once in a while, someone out there in movie land can actually find a writer who knows how to write and a director who can film a movie that has personality, depth, compassion and humor all rolled up into one delicious two hour stretch of time.Juno is a must see. A must see for anyone who values stimulating dialogue, and the kind of special effects that only their own heart can produce...
Rollo: So what's the prognosis, Fertile Myrtle? Minus or plus?
Juno MacGuff: I don't know. It's not seasoned yet.
[grabs products]
Juno MacGuff: I'll take some of these. Nope... There it is. The little pink plus sign is so unholy.
[shakes pregnancy tester]
Rollo: That ain't no Etch-A-Sketch. This is one doodle that can't be un-did, Homeskillet.
Drifting
The pup and I have been bonding. Me with her, and her with just about everything that's chewable in our home, leaving me to chase after her constantly to make sure she's not into anything she shouldn't be, and not doing anything she ought not to do. At least not in the house...
But she has been a welcome distraction in a week that still seems more than just a bit surreal. And it's hard to believe that it's already been one week. Seven whole days from then to now for the permanency of death to begin the process of being felt.
And I've chosen this weekend to be silent. More so by accident than actual choice, having left my cell phone at the office with no hopes of retrieving it until Monday morning,with no trips home to check on things with my Father or my sisters.
As selfish as I suppose this seems to say, I needed this weekend to be in my own home, to sort myself out after all of this. After everything. And it turns out, I've come to the conclusion that I'm not coping with things at all well. After all, it's not normal to obsess over whether the puppy is still breathing every time she falls to sleep and my own sleep is filled with dreams of a breath begun and then not taken.
You cannot see death, not even one that you could call beautiful, without feeling so, so much and feeling a little bit lost and completely dazed by the whole thing. It's like walking around in a fog, waiting for a trail of crumbs to lead you out. Or riding a wave between the highs, the lows and the undefined areas of a tide that can sweep you out to sea as fast as sail you back to shore.
But she has been a welcome distraction in a week that still seems more than just a bit surreal. And it's hard to believe that it's already been one week. Seven whole days from then to now for the permanency of death to begin the process of being felt.
And I've chosen this weekend to be silent. More so by accident than actual choice, having left my cell phone at the office with no hopes of retrieving it until Monday morning,with no trips home to check on things with my Father or my sisters. As selfish as I suppose this seems to say, I needed this weekend to be in my own home, to sort myself out after all of this. After everything. And it turns out, I've come to the conclusion that I'm not coping with things at all well. After all, it's not normal to obsess over whether the puppy is still breathing every time she falls to sleep and my own sleep is filled with dreams of a breath begun and then not taken.
You cannot see death, not even one that you could call beautiful, without feeling so, so much and feeling a little bit lost and completely dazed by the whole thing. It's like walking around in a fog, waiting for a trail of crumbs to lead you out. Or riding a wave between the highs, the lows and the undefined areas of a tide that can sweep you out to sea as fast as sail you back to shore.
Puppy Love
Puppies are like newborns minus the diapers and maternity leave. And I have to admit that I've recently discovered, after minimal protest on my part - that I have now become one of those people. One of those because my puppy can fit in a handbag and wear cute fuzzy sweaters, I'm going to take her everywhere I go because I can people. Making the reality of all of this seem quite over the top, even for me...
One, because I'm a grown woman who now coddles her dog like a babe wrapped in a blanket. And two, because I just can't seem to put her down and when I do it's like instant puppy breath withdrawal. And trust me, for a tried and true cat lover this whole puppy love thing is like the ultimate in warm and fuzzy. Except in Lucy's case maybe not so fuzzy as much as completely adorable.
Of course, this has given me yet a new challenge to attend to and after reading numerous articles, tip giving guides and how to's, I'm all about teaching Lucy to be the best little dog a pup can be...
Because as my Mother said and still says in regards to child rearing, it's all about consistency. And who knows, this time around, I may just heed that well given advice.
Puppy Dog Kisses
Sometimes it's okay to give in to the demands of children... After all, everybody needs a little something to hug when they're feeling bad.
Welcome home Arabella (Ella - left) and Luciana (Lucy - right)
As much as I wish I could call you both mine, I'm glad my sister Jo decided to adopt Ella from Lucy's same litter. It seems we all need a little canine comfort.
Sorrow
Life does indeed go on. It does not stop when someone you love, someone who has loved you dies. Time pushes us forward regardless of our hearts into a new dawn, into a life that must be lived despite the empty place that's left behind.
And though it is not easy to push your passing from our minds, a few minutes of laughter does wonders for a hurting soul and a promise of something to look forward to eases the sadness from our eyes.
KC and I had this conversation last night. That it's okay for everyone to feel sad in their own way. Sometimes by crying, sometimes by being angry, sometimes by being quiet and for some by simply smiling their way past the tears.
We're all very different in how we choose to grieve, I told her, but we must remember that grief is just as much of an individual as the person who wears it on their face and there is no set time, to begin or to end what things your heart has to feel before you feel you're ready to really let that the person you love go.
Perhaps for myself, I can only explain that my grief displayed itself more prominently in the days before she died and in the morning that she did. And what my heart feels now is gratitude for having known her, love for the family and bond she gave birth to, hope for the promise of life eternal, and a small, sad smile that knows she isn't gone. Just simply out of sight.
And though it is not easy to push your passing from our minds, a few minutes of laughter does wonders for a hurting soul and a promise of something to look forward to eases the sadness from our eyes.
KC and I had this conversation last night. That it's okay for everyone to feel sad in their own way. Sometimes by crying, sometimes by being angry, sometimes by being quiet and for some by simply smiling their way past the tears.
We're all very different in how we choose to grieve, I told her, but we must remember that grief is just as much of an individual as the person who wears it on their face and there is no set time, to begin or to end what things your heart has to feel before you feel you're ready to really let that the person you love go.
Perhaps for myself, I can only explain that my grief displayed itself more prominently in the days before she died and in the morning that she did. And what my heart feels now is gratitude for having known her, love for the family and bond she gave birth to, hope for the promise of life eternal, and a small, sad smile that knows she isn't gone. Just simply out of sight.
Sorrow fully accepted brings its own gifts. For there is alchemy in
sorrow. It can be transmuted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy,
can yet bring happiness.PEARL S. BUCK
Release
Love endures all. Even death. It does not disappear even when gone from sight. It lives in this house, in every room, in every heart still beating.
And it will live on. To comfort us through today and the years to come. To wipe away the tears that we can't help to cry. To heal our hearts now enmeshed in sorrow.
And it was love that helped us to let you go. To hold your hands into that last goodbye. And it was love that filled the silence that offered us our first sound of comfort.
Be at peace now.
Take your place in the sky and love us, as you always did, those you've left here on earth...
And it will live on. To comfort us through today and the years to come. To wipe away the tears that we can't help to cry. To heal our hearts now enmeshed in sorrow.
And it was love that helped us to let you go. To hold your hands into that last goodbye. And it was love that filled the silence that offered us our first sound of comfort.
Be at peace now.
Take your place in the sky and love us, as you always did, those you've left here on earth...
Night Sitting
Sleep my sisters...
I will keep your watch tonight, though the hour is late
and I grow weary for bed.
Let me shoulder this burden for just a while to give you rest.
I will keep your watch tonight, though the hour is late
and I grow weary for bed.
Let me shoulder this burden for just a while to give you rest.
A Little Is Not A Lot
I'm trying... I really am.
I sit in front of my computer, and I stare at its screen, thinking I know what it is I want to say, and then surprising myself when I begin to type and stall right out having barely begun.
I am too tired. Too tired to stay awake. Too sad to simply sleep.
I sit in front of my computer, and I stare at its screen, thinking I know what it is I want to say, and then surprising myself when I begin to type and stall right out having barely begun.
I am too tired. Too tired to stay awake. Too sad to simply sleep.
Brainwashing For Bargains
Grocery shopping has never been one of the things I enjoy doing. In fact, I will go so far as to say that I find the whole cart pushing experience tedious, time consuming, and totally taxing. Half of the time I can't reach the items I need, I can't find the items I want, and I swear if someone gave me the power to revoke cart pushing privileges to the seemingly sane insane people that inhabit grocery stores as mobile roadblocks and public nuisances, I'd be one of those people who would gladly abuse my power for the greater good.
Last night however, I almost had fun. Then again, shopping with Jodi was quite the experience. Her with her coupon clipping ways and bargain shopping skills that made my penny pinching Poppa look like a Catholic schoolgirl on her way to first communion. A truth I had to see to believe and then had to mock as much as possible the entire time we were there...
Then again, I truly believe she deserved it after she refused - absolutely refused to buy the best crackers around. The best crackers being Town House and their delicious little party pack of butter crisp, wheat and sesame seed goodness. And given that their competition was a freaking box of Triscuits, perfectly acceptable in its own plain Jane cracker of dubious origin and even less taste way, the choice itself was obvious.
Obvious until she whipped out the holy grail of coupon hoarding booklet, and realized that seventy-five cents off regular price for two boxes or more far surpassed my on sale, but not on sale enough choice of crackers made by the people who know what baking in yummy goodness is all about...
And you know who I'm talking about...
I'm talking about the elves. The short, sassy, sweet and the oh so fashionably dressed elves from the order of Keebler. Elves capable of making things, "Uncommonly good."
And why anyone tries to do any better, I'll never know... I guess it's just a good thing I've got an unopened box ready and waiting at home...
Last night however, I almost had fun. Then again, shopping with Jodi was quite the experience. Her with her coupon clipping ways and bargain shopping skills that made my penny pinching Poppa look like a Catholic schoolgirl on her way to first communion. A truth I had to see to believe and then had to mock as much as possible the entire time we were there...
Then again, I truly believe she deserved it after she refused - absolutely refused to buy the best crackers around. The best crackers being Town House and their delicious little party pack of butter crisp, wheat and sesame seed goodness. And given that their competition was a freaking box of Triscuits, perfectly acceptable in its own plain Jane cracker of dubious origin and even less taste way, the choice itself was obvious.
Obvious until she whipped out the holy grail of coupon hoarding booklet, and realized that seventy-five cents off regular price for two boxes or more far surpassed my on sale, but not on sale enough choice of crackers made by the people who know what baking in yummy goodness is all about...
And you know who I'm talking about...
I'm talking about the elves. The short, sassy, sweet and the oh so fashionably dressed elves from the order of Keebler. Elves capable of making things, "Uncommonly good."
And why anyone tries to do any better, I'll never know... I guess it's just a good thing I've got an unopened box ready and waiting at home...
The Only One Awake
The past two days have been difficult. Filled with conversations, questions and concerns. Emotionally right now, I am exhausted, as is the rest of my family. But I am also more proud of them than I have ever been. For their bravery. Their courage. Their strength. For simply being there in every way they can. To care. To talk. To love.
With that being said, this is a private time for my family, and I must do my share in honoring what I know would be their request of me right now.
And my blog, while never completely silent, for now will talk of other things...
With that being said, this is a private time for my family, and I must do my share in honoring what I know would be their request of me right now.
And my blog, while never completely silent, for now will talk of other things...
The Coming Twilight
For me to be without words is a wonder. I normally know what the right words are to say. But I am at a loss. Feeling out of my element and in a space and time that requires me knowing what it is you need right now to hear...
All I can do is make you promises. Promises for a future that exceeds the time you've left here on earth. Promises that all of us here, after a time, will be okay.
I promise to look after Dad... With enough phone calls to drive him crazy, enough visits to make him wish that I'd do him a favor by staying home, and constantly nagging him - as I know you would want us to do - to make sure he's doing everything he needs to do to take care of himself.
And I promise to look after Audrey... Reminding her not to float too far away in those clouds she likes to call home, while encouraging her, as I know you would yourself, to follow her dreams just as far as they will go and to be very proud of the accomplished young woman she's become.
And I will be ready, whatever time, day or night, when Jodi needs a hand to hold onto, a sister to talk to, an outlet for her anger, an outlet for her tears, words of advice or just a silent companion to help her to weather the coming storms. And I will make sure we have food fights at the dinner table, conversations that end with giggles, and family moments which are as memorable as much as they are completely insane...
And I promise that Amy and I will learn to let the small things go, and work together as a team to provide for Dad and to help your daughters, our sisters, deal with the grief of having to let you go far sooner than it is fair to be made to say goodbye...
All I can do is make you promises. Promises for a future that exceeds the time you've left here on earth. Promises that all of us here, after a time, will be okay.
I promise to look after Dad... With enough phone calls to drive him crazy, enough visits to make him wish that I'd do him a favor by staying home, and constantly nagging him - as I know you would want us to do - to make sure he's doing everything he needs to do to take care of himself.
And I promise to look after Audrey... Reminding her not to float too far away in those clouds she likes to call home, while encouraging her, as I know you would yourself, to follow her dreams just as far as they will go and to be very proud of the accomplished young woman she's become.
And I will be ready, whatever time, day or night, when Jodi needs a hand to hold onto, a sister to talk to, an outlet for her anger, an outlet for her tears, words of advice or just a silent companion to help her to weather the coming storms. And I will make sure we have food fights at the dinner table, conversations that end with giggles, and family moments which are as memorable as much as they are completely insane...
And I promise that Amy and I will learn to let the small things go, and work together as a team to provide for Dad and to help your daughters, our sisters, deal with the grief of having to let you go far sooner than it is fair to be made to say goodbye...
Channeling Jane Fonda
Did someone turn my creativity faucet off when I wasn't looking or am I just too preoccupied with other things this week to write anything worth reading?
Though tonight I suppose that the story I should be telling would be the one where I give you all the gory details of my visit to the gym... And seriously, the next time I say anything resembling a promise to do something should something else happen, someone needs to come right up behind me and give me one swift kick in the keister, because I will deserve it!
But seriously, what we're the odds? It's not like I ever thought it would happen. At least not in a million years, and yet it has... Which I guess is something like karma coming 'round to teach me a lesson about opening my mouth and making promises I didn't necessarily mean to keep.
And what did I say exactly, you ask?
If I recall it correctly, it went a little something like this... "The day someone builds a gym in my backyard, I am so there..."
And while this gym isn't really right smack dab directly in my backyard, it's more than close enough to count. I mean I do have to drive by it to get home...
So back to my resolutions for the New Year list... I think I might just be up to three now, oops make that four.
Which of course means it's time to top ten it like my man Dave Letterman. Sex God extraordinaire...
1. Donate blood. Get free cookie and orange juice.
2. Make it known to Landlord that something needs to be done about the mistress of songs downstairs, and her little dog too...
3. Join secret society with Susan. Meet every Saturday morning.
4. Go to the gym. (On a regular basis and try not to look completely inept.)
Though tonight I suppose that the story I should be telling would be the one where I give you all the gory details of my visit to the gym... And seriously, the next time I say anything resembling a promise to do something should something else happen, someone needs to come right up behind me and give me one swift kick in the keister, because I will deserve it!
But seriously, what we're the odds? It's not like I ever thought it would happen. At least not in a million years, and yet it has... Which I guess is something like karma coming 'round to teach me a lesson about opening my mouth and making promises I didn't necessarily mean to keep.
And what did I say exactly, you ask?
If I recall it correctly, it went a little something like this... "The day someone builds a gym in my backyard, I am so there..."
And while this gym isn't really right smack dab directly in my backyard, it's more than close enough to count. I mean I do have to drive by it to get home...
So back to my resolutions for the New Year list... I think I might just be up to three now, oops make that four.
Which of course means it's time to top ten it like my man Dave Letterman. Sex God extraordinaire...
1. Donate blood. Get free cookie and orange juice.
2. Make it known to Landlord that something needs to be done about the mistress of songs downstairs, and her little dog too...
3. Join secret society with Susan. Meet every Saturday morning.
4. Go to the gym. (On a regular basis and try not to look completely inept.)
Taxed, Tired and Terribly Sorry
A headache that says to bed. A brain that begs to blog. A moment that hangs in the balance between the two...
And the only choice to choose is the one where there's half a chance the room will stop spinning and my head will stop pounding.
So for tonight, my apologies for the excuse that presents itself as my post...
Balloons & Birthdays
Every once in a while, life forces me to live in reality rather than here on the blog. And the reality around here has kept me far beyond busy these past two days. So busy in fact, that I unplugged the DSL cable from it's modem, rolled it up as best as one can roll a cable up, and tucked it beneath the couch for safekeeping where it had been hidden until just about an hour ago.
And I figured I'm due for some down time. What with all the running around I've done, cleaning I've suffered through and the pure exhaustion that was my evening last night, I'm all about doing what I want to do... That is, if I really want to do anything at all.
You see last night we had a sleepover... But not just any sleepover! No. We had a birthday party, no one went to bed until almost dawn, popcorn making, soda drinking, guitar hero playing, giggling, laughing, running around the house, five girls in one bathroom, we're not going to bed cause we're having too much fun sleepover last night. And you know something, when you have that many girls in your house, even when they're not all your own, you worry as if they were.
Between enforcing the no open window rule last night, worrying about a possible allergic reaction to who knows what with one of them, saving a fish (don't ask) and making sure everyone was happy, safe and content, it took a lot out of me. And don't even ask what time I finally managed to crawl into bed because as far as I'm concerned, I should still be there!
Still... I wouldn't change a bit of it for the world. Nothing makes me happier than knowing that moments such as these are memories I'm helping make for my daughter's future.
She is a rare joy. Sometimes cantankerous and too big for her britches, but at her core a warm, funny, engaging child, smart when she wants to be, creative all the time, brave, independent, musically talented, gift from God.
And the love of my life... Always.
Happy Birthday KC...
And I figured I'm due for some down time. What with all the running around I've done, cleaning I've suffered through and the pure exhaustion that was my evening last night, I'm all about doing what I want to do... That is, if I really want to do anything at all.
You see last night we had a sleepover... But not just any sleepover! No. We had a birthday party, no one went to bed until almost dawn, popcorn making, soda drinking, guitar hero playing, giggling, laughing, running around the house, five girls in one bathroom, we're not going to bed cause we're having too much fun sleepover last night. And you know something, when you have that many girls in your house, even when they're not all your own, you worry as if they were.
Between enforcing the no open window rule last night, worrying about a possible allergic reaction to who knows what with one of them, saving a fish (don't ask) and making sure everyone was happy, safe and content, it took a lot out of me. And don't even ask what time I finally managed to crawl into bed because as far as I'm concerned, I should still be there!
Still... I wouldn't change a bit of it for the world. Nothing makes me happier than knowing that moments such as these are memories I'm helping make for my daughter's future.
She is a rare joy. Sometimes cantankerous and too big for her britches, but at her core a warm, funny, engaging child, smart when she wants to be, creative all the time, brave, independent, musically talented, gift from God.
And the love of my life... Always.
Happy Birthday KC...
Silence and Reflection
I sit here. Tears in my eyes. Smile on my face. Absorbing everything I've just seen and heard and felt. And I am thankful for good movies that can make you laugh as much as they can make you cry and make you think.
So tonight I have only one question to ask of you. And to ask of myself.
What great passion moves you?
Answer that... And you answer everything.
And if you need help remembering, find something to make your heart remind you...
* For those of you wondering what movie it was that I was watching - which for the sake of rating I'll give 4 out of 4 stars, click here. Just keep the Kleenex close.
** Also a note of thanks to Susan who in her infinite wisdom this Christmas bestowed on me the wonder of Netflix. For someone who doesn't particularly care for mainstream releases, it is truly a magical and wonderful gift.
So tonight I have only one question to ask of you. And to ask of myself.
What great passion moves you?
Answer that... And you answer everything.
And if you need help remembering, find something to make your heart remind you...
* For those of you wondering what movie it was that I was watching - which for the sake of rating I'll give 4 out of 4 stars, click here. Just keep the Kleenex close.
** Also a note of thanks to Susan who in her infinite wisdom this Christmas bestowed on me the wonder of Netflix. For someone who doesn't particularly care for mainstream releases, it is truly a magical and wonderful gift.
My Brilliant Mind
-3 degrees Fahrenheit. Cold enough to freeze your lungs if you stand outside too long. Cold enough to warrant warming up my car before heading home for the night from work. Cold enough to be feeling warm and generous, and capable of making the offer to start my bosses car which wasn't exactly an offer made from the goodness of my heart, but one that was more or less made to keep him from going out and starting up the mess that currently is mine.
That being said, I hit the cold with two sets of car keys in hand. One set mine. One set his. And just about all of me evidently confused...
Starting my own car was like putting icing on a cake. After all, expectations of success aren't a far stretch of the imagination when you're accustomed to turning a key and hearing a motor hum.
Bursting with overconfidence, I walked the distance between my car and his, pressing down the button to unlock his truck. And when no answering lights flashed me in return, I simply thought it odd that Myles's hadn't bothered to lock it at all.
Climbing up into his truck (and let me point out that when you're as short as I am, the term climbing can be used on any vehicle that's high enough to need running boards, as well as a running start, in order for me to clear the front seat without falling on my ass) I popped myself into the driver's seat, slid the key into the ignition, pressed it forward and then found myself wondering where it was that I went wrong when nothing happened.
"Hmmmm..." I thought to myself, "Maybe there's some special catch to get this key to unlock the ignition." And so I tried again. And then again. Then held the key out in front of my face to take a good hard look at it and make sure it was indeed a key used for starting cars. And then tried one last and final time.
Still nothing...
And that's when the thought occurred to me that something about this cozy little scene wasn't quite right. Having traveled in Myles's truck before on various life threatening excursions, I suddenly remembered something I hadn't quite taken in when I had given the truck a cursory glance. The truck I was in was much smaller than it should have been.
If I could have sunk down in the seat in shame any further than I did, I would have been on the floor. In fact, the only thing that kept me from doing just that was the thought that if I waited much longer the true owner of the truck I was illegally trying to start might come out and ask me a few most likely very embarrassing questions of his own. Most likely one that would have started out with, "What are you doing in my truck?"
Hightailing it out of there like my pride and reputation were on the line, I scanned the parking lot for the vehicle in question and finally found it...
Right next to mine. (Imagine that...)
Starting the correct vehicle (finally) and laughing myself silly all the way back inside the office, I had no intention of sharing the story of my latest I'm a complete moron mishap in the parking lot. After all, one doesn't always want to paint one's foibles in the harsh light of stupidity just to tickle the funny bone of someone else.
And I would have succeeded. In fact, I was this close. Close right up until the moment Myles called me from the other room and said, "Did you have a problem out there? I saw the lights flash but it seemed to take you a while to start it."
That being said, I hit the cold with two sets of car keys in hand. One set mine. One set his. And just about all of me evidently confused...
Starting my own car was like putting icing on a cake. After all, expectations of success aren't a far stretch of the imagination when you're accustomed to turning a key and hearing a motor hum.
Bursting with overconfidence, I walked the distance between my car and his, pressing down the button to unlock his truck. And when no answering lights flashed me in return, I simply thought it odd that Myles's hadn't bothered to lock it at all.
Climbing up into his truck (and let me point out that when you're as short as I am, the term climbing can be used on any vehicle that's high enough to need running boards, as well as a running start, in order for me to clear the front seat without falling on my ass) I popped myself into the driver's seat, slid the key into the ignition, pressed it forward and then found myself wondering where it was that I went wrong when nothing happened.
"Hmmmm..." I thought to myself, "Maybe there's some special catch to get this key to unlock the ignition." And so I tried again. And then again. Then held the key out in front of my face to take a good hard look at it and make sure it was indeed a key used for starting cars. And then tried one last and final time.
Still nothing...
And that's when the thought occurred to me that something about this cozy little scene wasn't quite right. Having traveled in Myles's truck before on various life threatening excursions, I suddenly remembered something I hadn't quite taken in when I had given the truck a cursory glance. The truck I was in was much smaller than it should have been.
If I could have sunk down in the seat in shame any further than I did, I would have been on the floor. In fact, the only thing that kept me from doing just that was the thought that if I waited much longer the true owner of the truck I was illegally trying to start might come out and ask me a few most likely very embarrassing questions of his own. Most likely one that would have started out with, "What are you doing in my truck?"
Hightailing it out of there like my pride and reputation were on the line, I scanned the parking lot for the vehicle in question and finally found it...
Right next to mine. (Imagine that...)
Starting the correct vehicle (finally) and laughing myself silly all the way back inside the office, I had no intention of sharing the story of my latest I'm a complete moron mishap in the parking lot. After all, one doesn't always want to paint one's foibles in the harsh light of stupidity just to tickle the funny bone of someone else.
And I would have succeeded. In fact, I was this close. Close right up until the moment Myles called me from the other room and said, "Did you have a problem out there? I saw the lights flash but it seemed to take you a while to start it."
Back At It
It's back to work for me this morning and though I have objections, I don't believe a one of them is going to go anywhere past the being heard and then pretty much ignored stage.
Still... Just as I was getting used to this owning my own time thing, BAM! There goes that carpet from under my feet once more and my return, while not heralded by angels or anything else of great importance will surely not go unnoticed...
They do (those lucky people that happen to drudge right along beside me) happen to feel my absence when I'm gone... The office as they say is eerily quiet.
I can only hope they enjoyed it while they could...
Still... Just as I was getting used to this owning my own time thing, BAM! There goes that carpet from under my feet once more and my return, while not heralded by angels or anything else of great importance will surely not go unnoticed...
They do (those lucky people that happen to drudge right along beside me) happen to feel my absence when I'm gone... The office as they say is eerily quiet.
I can only hope they enjoyed it while they could...
2008 - In With a Bark?
If my greeting to the New Year anyway implies how the rest of my year is going to go, I'm going back to bed.
Thanks to Spin of the downstairs neighbordom and her little dog, whom sight unseen I've decided - at about four something this morning while trying unsuccessfully to smother myself into unconsciousness with my pillow - shall from this day forward be known as Yippy Von Yappingburg, woke me up with a succession of don't these drunken idiots who own me understand I need to go to the bathroom barking, barking... I can only say that my welcome to the New Year was not the way I would have chosen to ring it in, had I cared to ring it in at all.
I have however decided that number two on my resolution list has pretty much decided itself.
Let's refresh, shall we?
1. Donate blood. Get free cookie and orange juice.
2. Make it known to Landlord that something needs to be done about the mistress of songs downstairs, and her little dog too...
Thanks to Spin of the downstairs neighbordom and her little dog, whom sight unseen I've decided - at about four something this morning while trying unsuccessfully to smother myself into unconsciousness with my pillow - shall from this day forward be known as Yippy Von Yappingburg, woke me up with a succession of don't these drunken idiots who own me understand I need to go to the bathroom barking, barking... I can only say that my welcome to the New Year was not the way I would have chosen to ring it in, had I cared to ring it in at all.
I have however decided that number two on my resolution list has pretty much decided itself.
Let's refresh, shall we?
1. Donate blood. Get free cookie and orange juice.
2. Make it known to Landlord that something needs to be done about the mistress of songs downstairs, and her little dog too...
